


Disruption

by Detownley



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 18:58:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17310101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Detownley/pseuds/Detownley
Summary: You and Javier are flirting yet again - something that’s becoming quite the reoccurrence.





	Disruption

You stand next to the stew pot as it gives off the most amazing smell you’ve encountered since Mary-Beth brought back that fancy perfume from an equally fancy city up North. You hold onto your beer bottle for dear life, wrapping both hands around it tightly as if someone might snatch it away at any moment – although, given the band of liars and thieves that you currently keep for company, any one of them could.  
You’ve been rolling from pillar to post with the Van Der Linde gang for over a year now and whilst you could count on one hand the number of people you actually trust unwaveringly, you don’t regret joining them in the slightest. Young and on the run and so desperately hungry – like most members were when Dutch found them – you weren’t in the position to turn down a helping hand; even though you’d been sure that it was a trick at the time.  
“You saving some of that stew for the rest of us?” Javier calls, approaching from behind.  
You turn and show him your half-empty beer bottle. “I haven’t eaten yet,” you tell him as he stands beside you with an empty bowl, ready to fill it with as much of the piping hot stew as it can physically hold. “My poison for the night is booze.”  
“You should get some food in you before you carry on drinking, Chiquita. It won’t do you no good at all,” he says, bending down and filling his bowl. He speaks the words as a warning, but he doesn’t make much of an effort to hide the smile on his face as he says them. He always liked you that little bit more when you were drunk – not that anyone can say he doesn’t like you when you’re sober, what with all the time he spends making moves on you. But you suppose he prefers you when you’re letting your hair down a little; there’s more chance of him bedding you then, after all.  
“Well, I’ll bear that advice in mind,” you smile, taking a swig from your bottle as he stands up straight again. “Careful with that stew. It’s hot.”  
He smiles and shakes his head, shovelling a spoonful of stew into his mouth and wincing as it burns his tongue. “Mierda, that’s hot.”  
“Wow, if only someone had warned you about that before you shoved it into your pie hole!” you gasp, sarcastically.  
“Cállate,” he laughs. “You better stop laughing at me like that.”  
“And what are you gonna do to make me?” you smirk.  
He smiles widely, keeping his eyes fixed on you as he takes another spoonful into his mouth. He shrugs. “Oh, you know me; I’d never pass up an opportunity to have you chastise me. You’re at your prettiest when you have someone’s arm between your teeth.”  
“How dare you insinuate that I’m not _always_ at my prettiest.”  
The group of folks at the table beside you begin to giggle – likely finding amusement in the untiring flirtation that continuously bounces back and forth between you and Javier, day in day out. But neither of you notice them eavesdropping and shaking their heads. You’re much too caught up in each other; as always.  
Javier finishes off his bowl of stew and drops the bowl to the ground next to the stew pot, ready for whichever poor soul is on washing-up duty to collect it. He wipes his mouth and takes the beer bottle from your hands before gulping down what was left of it, all whilst maintaining eye contact with you. He’s looking at you rather hungrily, but given the bowl of stew he just polished off in under 3 minutes, you’re not convinced that it’s food he’s hungry for.  
“Hey, I was drinking that!” You snatch the bottle back and upon finding it totally empty, you toss it to the floor next to Javier’s discarded bowl.  
“You got something on your face,” he says, stepping close and raising his hand to your chin. “Here, lemme get it for you.” With one swift movement - as smooth as butter - he holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger and leans in to plant a kiss on your lips. Nothing fancy, just a quick peck – a surprisingly soft one at that – but it’s still enough to make you blush. The group at the table are now cheering softly and you’re suddenly very aware of them being witness to the kiss that was just ruthlessly stolen from you.  
Javier laughs as you playfully punch him in the chest. “You sneaky son of a bitch,” you grin, shoving him away.  
“What kind of low-life criminal would I be if I wasn’t sneaky, huh?” he asks, stepping back and putting his hands up to defend himself against the barrage of smacks that you deliver to his torso.  
“Get the fuck outta here, you wretched thief,” you chuckle, picking up the rag that hangs over the frame of the stew pot and flinging it at him.  
He catches the rag in his chest. “Or what?” he challenges, waving the rag around in front of you as he goads you.  
“Oh please, I could take you with my hands tied behind my back.”  
“Now that’s a sight I’d like to see, chica.”  
“You raise your eyebrows at him. “You’re one perverted delinquent, señor Escuella,” you tell him, moving towards the crate of beer that sits at the end of the table, where the group _hopefully_ still enjoy their meal; despite the disruption that you and Javier are causing.  
“And you love me for it,” he smiles at you.  
“Lord knows I must love you for _somethin’._ Otherwise, I’d have buried in the forest a long time ago.”  
“Would you two stop flirtin’?” Arthur says, clearing his throat and turning around in his seat to look at the pair of you. “The rest of us are tryna eat over here and the last thing we need is the threat of you two layin’ across the table and gettin’ down ‘n’ dirty among our bowls of Pearson’s lovingly cooked stew.”  
“Now there’s an idea,” Javier smiles, pointing the rag at Arthur.  
The group around the table chuckle into their bowls and you turn to Javier. “You heard the man, Javier; stop flirtin’.” You pop the cap off your fresh beer bottle and back away from the table with a smile.  
“I’ll stop flirting when you stop flirting back, Chiquita,” he tells you, tossing the rag back over the stew pot where it belongs.  
“Me? Flirt?” you gasp, continuing to back away from the group. “I would _never!_ ” you smile before swigging from your bottle and turning to leave.


End file.
